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It’s been two years since my last entry…not that anyone is really reading. But I like to amuse myself. A whirlwind happened in this span of time. I feel like I was caught up in the craziness that was in my husband’s head. For married couples out there, know that when one of you have no idea what you want in life, you tend to drag your significant other along that path too. I think it’s safe to say that no spouse should be chasing the other around the world until he or she finds themselves.

At some point, reasoning appeared. Let me explain. It didn’t take me very long to totally breakdown living in a foreign country, and feeling abandoned by my husband, who basically felt like he was living his new life sans his wife. Besides having very few friends, all that I knew about my life simply fell away between the borders of US and South America. My profession, which I worked so hard to achieve, gone. My social networks gone. My children, gone. My entertain equated to internet television, and even Netflix has its limits.

I felt I had made a very bad decision for myself. So desperate to spend quality time with my spouse, I agreed to everything without thinking it through. It ultimately became my fault, because I made the decision to move on my own free will, and if I complained, well, it was my choice right? So at this point, we could start pointing fingers. But let’s not. Let’s forward into two years, and see where I am now.

I am back in the US, although not California, which would have been my choice, but not financially. I settled on the city I have been talking about for a long time. Unsure of why, but maybe because my father spent a lot of time in this state of Texas. I chose Austin for diversity and promise for my future. It’s a lot of pressure for a growing city, but I hope it meets me in the middle.

I still don’t have the ability to go back to work and I am working toward getting licensed. But I have the kind of freedom I did not have in Colombia. I can leave my house and get things done, and basically have some semblance of a life that doesn’t involve a couch and a remote control. I can get my own groceries, and drive to places. That’s a biggie. I don’t have to be in constant fear for my safety while walking alone. I think that was the hurdle I was never able to overcome in Colombia. As women, we are victims just by being the fairer sex. If men don’t admit it, they know it innately. It’s a historical fact.

During the past two years, every time I stood up for myself and asked for things I wanted in my life, things have worked out. It’s unnatural for any human to succumb to silence. It just takes longer for women to realize that pleasing or loving does not mean one should sacrifice her needs. This is something my father taught me without knowing. Having only a male role model did wonders for my self-esteem. But my past mistakes only confirms that our desire to love and give is innate. It’s undoubtedly a blessing and a curse. The Universe does not define gender. It only hears the hearts of humans. If we don’t ask what we want, we don’t get it. It’s as simple as that.

To make matters worst, just after my last hopeful entry, I was afflicted with Bells Palsy. It happened right after a dental procedure I felt forced to do because I was moving to Colombia. I have never really recovered from it. I not only had to adjust to my new environment, I now had a physically debilitating condition. My facial paralysis kept me from doing things I took for granted, like smiling (this is huge), and chewing, and rinsing my mouth, and not having a constant pressure on my face, and now looking a little angry all the time. Despite having all my essentials needs met, these past two years has been one of the worst times in my life since the turmoil from my first divorce. It was that event, and all my childhood traumas rolled into one enormous snow ball. I started to really doubt that I would have any more strength in me to just survive another day. It was a contradiction. I was far from suffering, and yet I felt that I was. On the surface, I had no reason to feel the way I did.

Does this sound familiar to you? I am certain I am not alone. But here’s what happened in the middle of my despair. I found my voice again, and with it came some real independent thought. Stripping me of all what I thought love and relationships were “supposed” to be. My girlish fantasies at best, and what brought me down to zero in the end. And realizing I could still rebuild in the second half of my life. Let’s face it, a lot can still happen after 50. My elixir was creativity.

Throwing myself into the creative process healed me in a way I cannot explain. All that art therapy I learned about was never understood until now. I was so deep into the depths of my well of despair, there was no climbing out. Nothing could save me but myself. You could have thrown me a hundred life lines, and I would have cut them with my own scissors. I asked the Universe for salvation, and it showed me how through my hands.

I acknowledged this to my husband the other day, how liberating it has been for me to have this voice that says, you can make whatever the you want, and it will still be beautiful. But not only that…I believed I had original thought before, but it was full of hubris in the past. But I know better. This original voice is infectious. This ability transcends from my creative work into other areas of design, cooking, organization, even in the way I look at nature has changed. It’s my found treasure, and it was inside of me all along. I feel like I can accomplish almost anything, including not limited to defining my own self worth through the love of my spouse.

How did the spark of creativity even happen? I had this repeated affirmation while in Colombia…”I am only going to surround myself with beautiful things.” That was it. I started acting on it, and the Universe heard me. We planned a long trip to Europe, where I included learning things off my Craft Bucket List. Hat Making was at the top of my list. I have wanted to learn this since I was in Fashion Design school in my twenties. But weighed down with little kids at that time, I barely had the strength to get as far as I did in the program. I had forgotten that if given the chance, I knew I was going to be a really good milliner someday.

One might think I left the United States because of the state of the nation–a political move to distance myself from the insanity. Far from it. A year ago this month (August 2016), my husband and I landed at the Jose Maria Cordova Airport in Medellin, Colombia. Months prior to our departure, my husband had exhausted a list of pros and cons on possible countries and cities to make our new home. Medellin was at the top of his short list. I didn’t have a list, so I just went with his. Together, we bought a new apartment by October, and shortly after that our country said goodbye to Obama.

I was getting tired of people asking me why I was moving, others simply stated “what a good time” it was for me to leave. The truth is, my husband and I just wanted a change. We picked Latin America because it was the country we had the least amount of experience, but with a culture and language that might be a bit easier to learn. We decided to take a huge risk on our future, be it temporary or permanent. Realizing that any permanence can be temporary again is key here. It’s okay to change and change again.

Medellin for me was shrouded in corruption and murder. That’s what I saw on the news, watched on Netflix, and knew as truths rather than rumors. Yes, there is crime here. But it’s not what Hollywood depicts. The cartels from what I have been told by locals are active, wearing muted suits that go consciously unnoticed by the residents. The cafeteria of crimes however range from local grifters, petty traffic extortion, mugging, armed robbery and even a contracted murder. This is not tropical Hawaii that’s for sure. Getting swindled is an every day occurrence, and that kind of daily bombardment really wears me down like a whining child.

I am not a good person to ask about gauging crime. It’s because I was mugged in Los Angeles once and hurt pretty bad (but not hospitalized bad), so my danger radar has been on high alert ever since. My fear of this country is not unwarranted, but coupled by my fear of personal safety (from past experience)–makes for some paranoid situations.

On the upside, the city is cleaner, better organized, and private infrastructure is expanding at alarming rates. The city’s thick layer of smog is a good indicator that very soon, it will suffer the likes of Chinese metropolitan cities. My already damaged lungs gasp at the thought of wearing masks outdoors in the near future. I am keeping my fingers crossed that Medellin will put an ordinance in place that requires developers to leave enough green next to the newly built brick and concrete.

I feel more like a foreigner here than the typical gringo. I am reminded daily that I am Asian. The last time I felt so foreign was when I arrived at my Grandparent’s home in Fresno, California. Not a soul resembled me or spoke my language. I became mute to a new country at four years old, and now again at 53. Let’s just say that children are a lot meaner than adults. I have not been often ridiculed here, but the stares, the pointing and laughing feel similar. I am the foreigner’s foreigner, and this experience has dug up some old childhood emotions. But this is just my baggage. I don’t expect anyone to mug me here, but I would not be surprised if I were. Getting assaulted in any place traumatizing be it Colombia or the US. I am certain that bad people are everywhere, but so are good people.

My husband on the other hand, is the complete opposite. He is less cautious, and open to going to the unfamiliar for new friends and a chance to see music venues (he has different priorities I suppose). He would rather trust before judge, and heighten senses only when things are obvious like blatant fraud, thievery, or brutal force. He has also never been assaulted. He’s an innocent, and a good man. I envy him sometimes. He is an example of why we should cherish our children. Our world could be so much better if we raised our children to be like my husband was–cradled in safety, non-violence, and welcomed curiosity. But that’s a whole other blog post.

Before hate and fear gets thrown around unnecessarily, I want to tell you how beautiful the people are in Medellin. I want to share with you their Spirit, their generosity, and their willingness to befriend you. I haven’t come here to conquer but rather as a guest. My hope is that the people here will find a way to embrace me as much as my welcome heart can hold. I am optimistic even when I feel beaten. I am also not naive about the reality here. But don’t send me away just yet.

Rambutan fruit, in season at the local farmer’s market.

I created space in my life to come here. I gave up my busy practice, gave away a lot of my belongings, my then plan for my future, easier access to my children, my family and friends. My hope was to empty enough to allow ample space for all the people I will meet and love here..for all the new journeys and experiences..for new teachers.

I saved all the things I love and had them shipped to Medellin. I will have the familiars in a month, and that will be a comfort. Next week, I have house guests I have never met, but willing to provide shelter. An act I may have been less likely to do back at my old home. I am learning already. See me Medellin, because I am looking at you too.

Every time I decide to sew or go shopping for clothes, I make a conscious effort to add something cohesive with the rest of my wardrobe. But it never, never, never works out. Nearly every morning (if I have to leave the house), I stand in my tiny, inefficient closet and wonder why I cannot ever get this concept right. Why after sewing a few items, and adding more RTW pieces, I still cannot find the right thing to wear.

There are many reasons why this is happening, but I am going to talk about one for now: F-I-T. It is the main reason I return, donate, giveaway, or up-cycle my clothes. I would rather do all the things I just mentioned before I would pick up someone else’s work and try to make it fit me. My hell would be a life of altering RTW clothes.

On a recent splurge at one of my favorite stores, I ordered, fitting-room unseen, several items that I thought could look fabulous on me. They did not fit. Too long, too big, and defective. I did not want to take any of them back because I really liked the pieces. My favorite was this embroidered chambray cotton shirt. The back piece of the shirt was taken from the pile that was two sizes too small. The front bodice was fine. There was nothing I could do to change the back because of the embroidery.

There’s no way this was a large. I get this shirt at a deep discount, and it was sold out before I could find another one in my size.

I took the seam-ripper, removed the sleeves, refitted the armscye, and added a pink bias binding around the armhole. I turned a Winter shirt into a Summer piece, and I could even wear a long sleeve t-shirt underneath for layers.

My second piece was a gorgeous pullover beaded cotton weaved fabric dress. It was a medium, and based on the website reviews ran large, which was true around the body, but the armscye was for a person with no upper arm flesh. That’s not me. The dress was also 12 inches too long.

I cut the dress shorter, took the cut fabric from the hem and added a four-inch gusset into the armhole. The only problem were the beads around the arm…I did not see why I had to have beads all around the sleeve edge anyway. No one looks under my arms. I did however have to hand secure the beads where I attached the gusset. Now I can move freely, and remove this dress without assistance.

This third piece was a huge dress and probably two sizes too big for me (at least). The side pockets hung too low for my arms to reach. This one was difficult because I wanted to add some shape to what looked like a potato sack. I measured and added bust darts, and restitched the armhole with the same bias binding, except it was now two inches smaller. It required a bit more surgery.

Because the hem was frayed, I was only able to shorten it by raising the shoulder and the bust dart, both which helped bring the pockets high enough for me to reach. I thought about being super ambitious and moving the the pockets up a couple inches more for perfect side pocket poses– but nah, that was too much work. It’s not like I was on a repair “mode” or anything. I was in hell remember?

My original dress before altering. Look how big the arm holes are. It was so large, you could see my bra.

I pinned the shoulders to where I wanted to stitch and raise the dress which also helped shrink the armscye. I also measured and marked the bust point.

Finished dress is subtle. Instead of a rectangle shape, it’s more of a chemise. I was able to keep the hem and embroidery at the base of the dress intact.

It isn’t just RTW that I have a problem with. I have been delusional about how well the clothes I made for myself actually fit me. Sadly, the seam ripper will be used heavily across all my work, and if I cannot get it right..up-cycle it goes. One linen dress I made a couple of years ago was near perfect except for the bodice fitting slightly lower than I would like. I knew I needed to raise the shoulder up slightly, but I never did. You know what happens when you have an ill-fitted trapeze dress? I think it probably puts about ten pound on you. We cannot have that can we? No picture of that one…but you can see it HERE at my old blog.

The stretch and scuba knit stash is really starting to pile up. Since it does not get that cold in my neck of the woods, I can wear synthetic stretch knits instead of a thin sweater, (not to mention the erratic thermostat at work: hot, cold, hot, cold).

This first piece is a peplum pattern from Vogue V9056 (out of print). If you use scuba knit like I did, you could easily sew it up in one evening. I made a matching A-line skirt (Kwik Sew), but I’m not going to wear the two pieces together. It’s a little busy for my taste, but I have hung them both on the dress form so you can see what I mean.

I also made a pair of shorts with the leftovers, but have not finished adjusting the crotch or finished the hem yet. I might post that later. The scuba is from Gorgeous Fabrics, and last I checked, they still have some in stock at a great price. I really, really like the print and the feel of this fabric.

Just a quick note about the pattern…some issues with the bodice gussets under the armholes. I found them completely unnecessary, and made the top too wide. I ripped everything out and re-sewed sans the gusset. I feel like this was a pattern error. I recommend you check Pattern Review and see what folks are saying over there.

I picked up a few Style Arc patterns on sale at Amazon last month. They use nice thick white pattern paper–making them extremely durable with minimal wrinkles. Cutting fabric is a breeze. The new patterns I received from Amazon are multi-sized, and as much as I love having options, I don’t like the super-narrow grade lines.

Here is my version of the Mila Dress not made in contrast like the pattern suggests. I chose a ponte fuchsia also from Gorgeous Fabrics. The pattern is pretty easy to sew, and there’s lots of design flexibility. If I sew it again, I will need to shorten the bodice at the shoulders, and insert pockets. You can see from the back, how floppy it looks. I have also considered shoulder pads, but it looks mostly fine. (Sorry, I should have pressed it a bit better before the photo.) The fabric looks more coral, but it’s really a very lovely fuchsia!

My last two ducklings left their nest last Summer, and to fill the void, I moved my sewing studio into my son’s old room. My old sewing studio was starting to fall apart with water leaks, electrical, and insulation problems. But it were the critters that used my space (and fabrics) for nesting that really had me at my wit’s end.

My attempt at shrinking my stash lead to more productive sewing the last few weeks. But I realized last night that my whole-hearted desire to reduce stash always results in getting more. I come across patterns I want to make, and voila, not the right fabric to be found in the stash. How does that ever happen? I have yards of fabric–enough to run a small cottage business. I’m that woman with a closet full of fabric and nothing suitable for my next pattern.

Before I ran out of ideas–I was enamored with my growing collection of Japanese cotton and double gauze. I am no quilter, but going through each piece has made me want to quilt something in the very near future. (Unfortunately, quilts don’t really use up that much fabric.) Here’s a couple of completed gauze pieces I made last month.

This is a big dress, and will magically add a few extra pounds to my body. But the double gauze drape is forgiving, and if you hem it above the knee, it will compensate for the fullness.

Burda Style Pattern 123A top. This was a downloaded pattern that also has a dress version.

Armholes are a bit strange, but very full and comfortable. I found the pattern itself uneven. The sleeves measurements were off. I had to true the pattern again for my next sew.

The front neckline is very wide. My bra strap showed. I ended up creating an inverted pleat (sorry no picture) at the center front neckline to pull it tighter. I also adjusted the pattern front bodice piece down a good two inches. If you have an hour-glass body, I don’t really recommend this pattern as is. The hips will be tight because it’s a tree trunk design.

I have about five yards of the triple gauze, and it is wider than the Nani Iro or other Kokka double gauze fabric available in the states. This piece also cost me about $5.00 a meter. That’s right…not a typo on the price. The pattern is so-so, and obviously meant for kiddie things. But I think it looks okay and because it’s thicker, I can wear it now and through early Spring.

Here is the same pattern with 100% cotton. I have owned this fabric for ten years. I originally purchased it at Stonemountain and Daughter. I also have it in a reverse black background. The sleeves still ended up off grain, even after truing the sleeves. I don’t know if I would sew this pattern a third time.

I had this humming feeling in my belly at the end of last year. Whenever I get this feeling, I know that shifts are about to happen in my life.

The new year began with a chaotic move into a new work space. I had left my first office after one year and four months. This first space was generously offered at a time when no one really believed in me, not even me. I left for a custom two-room facility with a full front staff and support of a lovely doctor. I thought it was perfect.

The vertical blinds are sheer enough to see through in the evening. To add more privacy for my patients, I hung up a long piece of Japanese hand-dyed Shiburi fabric. I have not figured out a way to create a more permanent cover. But this seems to work for now.

But this old adage is true: “Be careful what you wish for.” I got exactly what I had hoped for, and nothing I really wanted. After 30 days, that humming in my belly grew exceedingly strong. I left the doctor’s office in a flurry, and landed in my new office…fully independent, and finally my own boss. Yes, it’s still a shared office space, but my room is all mine 24/7. I also get interaction with colleagues, and congenial referrals. I could not have asked for more. All my patients happily returned, and within a couple of months, my practice doubled in size.

Insert a SIGH right here.

Did I land here by accident or did I will it to happen? As soon as I stopped listening to others and worrying about the “what ifs” I just made one decision to leave, and the rest manifested. Another old adage is also true: “Listen to your gut” or in my case, it was my belly.

Side note: I was able to divide the room in half using a 16 pocket shelf from IKEA. I installed openings on both sides, so I can use the shelf on either side of the room. My room is feminine with masculine colors. Yin and Yang! My chairs are from Pier 1, and my desk and lamps were a steal from Homegoods.

I have not been very inspired lately. I almost shelled out a bunch of cash for a new Bernina this weekend, thinking that would have solved my sewing gloom. But thank God the sales people at the store were mostly unhelpful. I never throw good money away without a decent sales presentation.

With Summer finally in full swing, I thought some comfy and cool rayon would be fun to sew. This paisley print is another stash piece from Gorgeous Fabrics and the pattern is by Rebecca Taylor from Vogue Patterns 1395.

This dress is pretty easy to sew, and there’s even a lining behind the skirt. I have already tried to give this to my daughter, because this dress makes me look short and frumpy. A shoulder adjustment might make it look less bulky from the top. But it certainly has some dress form appeal right? The fabric is incredibly comfortable. Here’s the dress on the model in the next photo. Lovely right? If one is tall, thin, and relatively small busted. But do give it a go. At the very least, it’s a pretty fun pattern to sew.

I would like to bury at the bottom of this blog, a pattern that I really disliked in every way: the Mizoni dress from Vogue. The pattern gave me the worst sewing instructions for the shoulder. It is scrunchy in the bodice, and the whole design feels like one of those Project Runway desperate “design-in-an-hour dresses.” Unflattering with no promise of redemption. I did want some “shape” and decided to use a polyester from Joann’s Fabrics. I think a part of me knew it would be ugly…out it went.

Mizoni V1410

With the scare of an impending move at the end of July, I freaked out about moving to a smaller home and losing my sewing studio. It was a real probability. Then last minute our landlord decided to keep our rent the same for another year. This is after he threatened to raise our rent again after increasing it by $500 a month last year. It’s really hard staying here, but it’s worse moving when we’re not ready to go.

But this whole scenario could repeat itself in a year’s time. So I decided that I really needed to work through my stash a little faster. I’m also going to do a lot better with fitting as I go. I had not sewn with Simplicity Patterns in a while, and realized they cut a lot smaller in the bust than Vogue Patterns. Luckily, I’ve been using cheaper fabrics I picked up on sale to test a couple of pieces in advance. I know making a muslin before the final is a great idea for fitting. But it’s not going to make much of a dent in my fabric stash.